


Free with You Tonight

by sunniskies



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 16 year old harry, 18 year old louis, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Fluff, M/M, everything ends cute, harry sort of pines, please disregard that it's actually the american school system, so much fluff really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunniskies/pseuds/sunniskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's 16 and sophomore, Louis is a senior and his best friend, but somehow Harry's not sure that's enough anymore. </p><p>Essentially, high school au fluff involving first kisses and Niall mixing bad drinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free with You Tonight

The party’s going well, Harry thinks. It’s successful in the sense that Harry’s house is packed with all of his friends and even some random people who he’s probably seen in the hallway at some point, and the glasses in the kitchen cupboard practically vibrating off the shelf with how loud music is pounding. Everyone’s clutching a red solo cup and no ones thrown up on the carpet so, success.

Harry should be in his element. This is his _scene_ , people and music and the pleasant haziness of a few beers. But he’s not, instead he’s sipping a rather strong vodka coke (he should never trust Niall to mix his drinks, ever) and quietly watching Louis entertain a small crowd of people by the stereo. Louis’ cheeks are stained red from the heat and alcohol, and his fringe is falling a little messily, he keeps pushing it out of his eyes with a finger in that way Harry's seen him do a thousand times. He’s animatedly recounting some story that involves a lot of hand motions and everyone’s laughing, and he looks like he’s loving every second.

Harry sips his terrible drink and glares at him across the room. It’s not that Louis has to hang out with him, it’s just, well, he had sort of planned this party to impress him and expected some sort of attention. Louis’ parties were always legendary, nearly every Monday the school was buzzing with what happened at “Tommo’s” while Louis dishses out high-fives genereously. 

They’ve been mates since Harry started as a freshman a year ago, when he tripped on the stairs and his hand landed in a disgusting wad of old gum. He’d sat there a minute, his books littered around him, trying to peel the gum off his hand. And before he realized it, the junior he’d always seen walking the halls with a small posse and who seemed to have a penchant for brightly colored jeans, was handing him his calculus book and giving him a sympathetic grin. “You’ll probably want to burn your hand now. Who knows how long _that_ has been there,” he’d chuckled and pulled Harry up by his non-gum encrusted hand and they’d just clicked. For reasons unknown to Harry, Louis decided to bring him into his friends circle, and they meshed so quickly that they swore they’d been best mates in a past life.

Harry’s become popular-by-association, and he’d really wanted to show Louis that he wasn’t that dorky freshman anymore. So when his parents headed off for a weekend holiday, he immediately began inviting everyone over for what he promised would be the party of the year. His friends Niall and Liam had helped him stock up on cups and booze, Zayn promised to DJ and Harry spent all of Saturday morning hiding everything fragile. 

And it’s definitely a great party, but Harry doesn’t know why he imagined that Louis would laughing by his side the whole night. He knows Louis loves being the center of attention, soaks it up like he lives on it, and it’s fine. Just. It’s not.

Niall swings by the corner where Harry’s been trying to burn Louis with his gaze, clapping a hand to his back so hard that Harry chokes on a sip of cheap vodka. “What’re ya doin’ here, mate? This party is sick! Ya should come do shots with me and Liam!”

Harry finally turns away from Louis’ fan-corner and faces a pink faced Niall. “You got Liam to do shots?” he asks, incredulous. Liam’s the captain of the football team and they can never force more than half a beer down his throat before he’s holding his hands up in surrender.

“Well he doesn’t know he’s doing them yet, but yeh! C’mon mate,” Niall says happily, tugging Harry to the kitchen before he can answer.

Harry does a tequila shot with Niall, Zayn, and surprisingly enough, Liam. And then because it’s his party and Niall’s yelling that he’s not drunk enough, he does a shot of whiskey too. He splutters a little as the hot liquid burns down his throat but Niall’s laughing and Liam’s smiling a little dazily and his friends are around him so Harry feels alright. A little happier maybe.

They end up back in the living room and Harry lets himself be absorbed in the crowd, the music swirling around him and the shots making his thoughts light and airy. He could spend the rest of the night like this, surrounded by other hot and kind of sticky bodies, the music too loud and the lights too dim for him to give the feelings nagging in his stomach a name.

And then the song’s changing and Harry stops swaying gently to stand stock still.

_I need your love_

_I need your time_

_When everything's wrong_

_You make it right_

It’s just a stupid pop song, Harry reminds himself. A dumb song, one of those top 40 hits, it doesn’t mean anything. But he’s already pushing out of the crowd, Niall yelling after him and he doesn’t care.

_I feel so high_

_I come alive_

_I need to be free with you tonight_

_I need your love_

The thing is, Louis had played this song in the car last week, when they were headed back from school. And Harry had rolled his eyes but Louis had turned it up and started singing loudly in that ridiculous falsetto, the windows rolled down and his hair flying around wildly. “Stop the traffic, annndd let ‘em through!” Louis had yelled, doing his favorite move with one hand on the wheel and a ridiculous expression his face. So Harry joined in and they belted all the way to his house, Harry doing ‘the sprinkler’, both of them giddy and beaming and Harry had felt that swoop in his gut that he gets when he’s with Louis sometimes, like he’s ecstatic and terrified at the same time.

_Am I dreaming?_

_Will I ever find you now?_

_I walk in circles but I'll never figure out_

_What I mean to you, do I belong?_

_I try to fight this but I know I'm not that strong_  

And now as the words pound around Harry he’s mostly just terrified because all he can see is Louis with the sun in his blue eyes, grinning at Harry, and he doesn’t understand why he needs that so much. Why Louis spending the night glittering around people who aren’t him would feel like his heart is cracking down the middle.

Harry’s pushing upstairs blindly, all he can think about is getting away from that song and the words that mean too much and the thousand images of Louis he’s got flooding his brain. He slips into his room and falls across the bed, burying his head in the pillow so that all he hears is his own breath shaking unevenly. His face feels wet and he guesses he’s probably crying, and so he just lays still and wonders if he can start over to where things didn’t hurt so much.

Harry doesn’t know how long he lays there, the alcohol making time drift by fuzzily. He can hear the party pounding steadily on below him and he lets the sound of it wash over him, even if it’s not loud enough to silence his thoughts.

“There you are,” comes a voice, and Harry jerks his head up to see Louis quietly pulling the door shut behind him. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Here I am,” Harry agrees, and sits up so that he’s leaning against the headboard. Louis wanders around his room, running his fingers over the worn band posters on his walls like he hasn’t already seen them a million times.

“Well are you alright then?” Louis asks, turning toward Harry with a little bit of a frown. “Have too much to drink?”

“Nah” he shakes his head, but doesn’t elaborate.

Louis frowns again, but then his face lights up with a smile. “Did you hear that story I was telling, mate? About the turtles and Mr. Kemieser? God, so hilarious. Still don’t know if they found them all.”

Harry pulls his pillow into his lap and starts picking lint off of the case. And he doesn’t know why he says it, maybe it’s the vodka or maybe it’s something else, but he does. “Please don’t call me mate.” 

“What?” Louis stops wandering and stares. “Why the hell not?” 

“I just--I don’t want to be your mate,” Harry mumbles, and his heart is pounding so hard that he can barely hear his own words over the blood rushing through his ears. He concentrates hard on his pillow, even as he can see Louis take a halting step in his direction out the corner of his eye. 

“What?” Louis repeats, and his voice has lost it’s usual shimmer. “I don’t understand what you’re saying..”

Harry doesn’t answer that, isn’t sure how to phrase the fact that he wants to spend every second of his life with the boy in front of him, that he wants him to always have his arm wrapped around his shoulders, that he thinks of his lips on his own before he falls asleep every night. 

“Harry,” Louis says when Harry doesn't respond, and he’s climbing on the bed so that he’s facing Harry and he risks raising his head. “Oh, hey, don’t cry Haz,” Louis is reaching out to his face to wipe away tears that Harry didn’t even realize were there. His thumbs are warm on his skin and Harry closes his eyes at the touch, wishing Louis would never stop. “I just need you to tell me what’s going on,” Louis says gently, his eyes wide and focused on Harry intently.

Harry looks away because he can’t say it with that gaze on him, when he feels like he’s vibrating just because Louis’ knee is pressed against his. “I,” Harry starts, and swallows. “I like you.”

And it’s such a simple statement, something out of every preteen novel ever written, but Harry swears his heart just stopped. He’s never wanted anything as much as the boy in front of him, never knew that his whole body could physically ache for someone.

“Hey,” Louis whispers, and Harry can’t lift his head, he can’t look because he just might shatter. So Louis does it for him, cups his chin and pulls his head up so that he can’t miss the blue eyes that are burning into him, and Harry doesn’t know how to breathe.

“Hey,” is all Louis repeats, and then he swoops his head forward so their lips touch and Harry gasps a little. Louis kisses him the opposite of how he talks, softly and hesitantly, and Harry’s stomach doesn’t just swoop, it soars. It’s better than all the times he dreamed about it, because it’s real and he can smell Louis’ strawberry shampoo and taste the beer that he’d been drinking and Louis’ palm is burning on the back of his neck.

Louis pulls back and the world is blurry except for one very lovely face grinning in front of his. “But, you--?” he fumbles, and Louis just nods. 

“I’ve liked you since I met you, Haz. Just never thought you felt the same.” 

And Harry feels his face cracking into what’s probably the world’s dorkiest smile but Louis Tomlinson just kissed him so he can’t be bothered to care. “So you’re telling me we could have been doing that this whole time?” he grins and Louis laughs.

“Guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time, love,” Louis murmurs and kisses him again. 

Louis nips at his bottom lip, his mouth impossibly soft on Harry’s. Harry can’t help but pull back and he lifts a hand to sweep Louis’ auburn hair out of his eyes. “So can I tell you that I think you’re beautiful now?” Harry asks and Louis laughs. 

“You’re not going all cheesy on me, are you babe?” Louis chides, but he leans forward and presses a kiss to the tip of Harry’s nose. “I think everything about you is beautiful,” Louis whispers against his cheek, moving down to kiss Harry’s dimples. “Your eyes, your curls, even your creepy second nipples,” he murmurs, and his breath is hot on Harry’s skin as he keeps pressing kisses on his eyelids, his jaw, and the side of neck. 

“Who’s cheesy now?” Harry teases, but his voice is thin because he can feel himself burning at every single spot Louis is kissing him. Louis just hums against him, pressing his lips to his collarbones now. “I always want you touching me,” Harry admits quietly and Louis looks up at him with big eyes.

“Then I’ll never stop,” he decides, and pulls Harry down so that they’re laying on the bed together. Louis shifts so his chest is tight against Harry’s back and he tucks Harry’s head in the crook of his arm. Harry feels safer than he ever has, it’s like his bed wasn’t his until Louis is in it curled up around him. Louis dusts his fingers through Harry’s curls and Harry holds Louis’ hand on top of his still fluttering heart.

“Sleep, now,” Louis whispers in his ear. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

And Harry lets the heat of Louis body flush against his lull him off into a perfect slumber.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! let me know if you liked it :) xx 
> 
> my tumblr [foreverhazboo](http://www.foreverhazboo.tumblr.com)


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